


Chirality

by kinestheticpariah



Category: Black Hole High | Strange Days at Blake Holsey High
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:03:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinestheticpariah/pseuds/kinestheticpariah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something wrong, something terribly wrong, because he’s never been this uptight and this mean to her and he would never in his life wear those glasses.</p><p>--------<br/>Set during and post-Chirality (3.10).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She knocks on his door three times before simply turning the knob and walking in.

“Professor Z,” she says as the door closes, “I’m not cleaning the school.”

“Principal Zachary,” he corrects her. He’s on the far side of the office, facing the window. He looks uncharacteristically tense. “Miss Trent,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. He turns around, holding her crumpled detention slips in his hands. “I had hoped by giving you detention, that you would learn a willingness to uphold the school rules.” She walks closer as he crumples the papers in his hands. “But this flouting of my orders...”

“What’s happened to you?” she interrupts. He breaks eye contact for a brief moment. He’s not at all himself and it drives her insane. There’s something wrong, something terribly wrong, because he’s never been this uptight and this mean to her and he would never in his life wear those glasses. “I thought we were...” she trails off, remembering the rest of the science club is probably behind the door. What would she say anyway? _I thought we were a thing? I thought we were romantically involved?_ She sighs and amends, “...that you understood me.”

“Well I wish I could,” he says, and she can tell he’s struggling to get his words out when he continues, “Josie,” instead of Miss Trent. And for a moment she thinks maybe he’s himself again. “But your flagrant abuse of this institution and its rules-”

“I’m outta here.”

“Leaves me absolutely...” He furrows his brows as she walks away. “I’m talking to you!” he shouts. “Missy, if you’re not careful, I will fail you.”

She turns to face him, hand on the doorknob, and says, “You’ve failed me already.”

 

He follows her out the door. “No, no, no!” He follows her around the corner and she stops to face him. “Not another word out of you.”

“Or what?” she challenges.

Lucas jumps up, says, “Everybody just...chillax-”

“Or what?”

“I’ll expel you.”

“You can’t expel me...”

And then, at the same time,

“You’re expelled!”

“...‘cause I quit!”

And as soon as the words leave her mouth she feels regret, and fear, and...something else, something like betrayal but not quite the same. Corinne, Marshall, and Vaughn protest.

“You can’t throw her out!” Vaughn says.

“I just did.” Z’s gaze is cold and calculating. “And I can do the same,” he points to Lucas, to Marshall, to Vaughn, to Corinne, “to every one of you.” He walks into the office and Josie flinches when the door slams.

“I’m so out of here,” she whispers, blinking back tears as she walks up the stairs to her room.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where’s your rulebook, Principal Zachary?”

“I left it where it belongs.” He takes off his glasses. “In, uh,” he clears his throat and smirks as he continues, “another millenium.”

“Guys!” Vaughn says, and chuckles. “It did work!”

Z steps forward with her skateboard, and Marshall beckons the other three to follow him around the corner as she takes it. He scratches his nose. “Uh... I’m sorry.”

“I’m...I’m sorry, too,” Josie says.

He begins to turn, leave it at that, but he stops, hesitates. “You know, uh,” he puts his glasses back, “I do care if you’re not in my class.”

“You care as in personally or care as in I’ll be punished if I cut again?” she asks, though she knows the answer before he says it:

“Both.” ****  
  
  


* * *

 ****  
  
Later they’re in his room; she’s sitting on his desk while he marks a few last papers, swinging her legs over the side. He clears his throat when he picks up the pile of papers and straightens them out after alphabetizing them.

“And that,” he says, not to himself or to her or to anyone, really, just speaking for the sake of speaking, “is the last of them.” He sets them aside, stands up, stretches a bit and rubs his eyes.

Then he stands in front of her, and she reaches out as he steps forward, fiddles with the top buttons of his shirt, locks her ankles together behind his waist. He leans towards her, balances himself with a hand flat on the desk at her side, brushes a lock of hair out of her face and presses a soft kiss to the spot beneath her ear. His breath is warm and carries the scent of strong coffee even from a few inches away.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking coffee at night,” she says.

He chuckles into her hair, mumbles, “decaf,” before tilting her chin up with his hand and pressing his lips to hers.

Josie is, of course, the first to open her lips, run the fingers of one hand through his hair as she clumsily struggles with the buttons of his shirt in the other hand, suck his bottom lip into her mouth and gently bite.

He groans and his hands squeeze her hips. She locks her hands behind his neck, moves her lips to his jawline, as he lifts her up and begins to carry her into his bed.

  
They don’t make it to the bed, instead stumbling onto the ground, apologetically clumsy movements and the feeling of cold hardwood against bare skin before hot breaths and flushed skin heat it back up.


End file.
